


Starving

by jasmasson



Category: Hard Core Logo (1996)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-19
Updated: 2012-12-19
Packaged: 2017-11-21 13:57:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/598514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jasmasson/pseuds/jasmasson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joe wanted a fucking pizza and beer right now, pretty bad.  It had been two weeks since he’d had a pizza.  It had been four months since he’d touched Billy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Starving

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spuffyduds](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spuffyduds/gifts).



> Reference to sex between minors.

Joe had been on a diet for the past two weeks. 

Not that he’d told anyone that, fuck no. Because a fucking diet? Dieting was really not fucking rock and roll. It was the first diet Joe had even been on; although he’d always been a little big, it had never been something that he’d thought about before, never really bothered him, until now. 

It wasn’t like he’d ever been fat enough to be _the_ fat kid at school, so he’d not cared back then, and he might not be healthy, but, fuck it, it wasn’t like heart disease was gonna get him before the alcohol, cigarettes and coke did, not to mention the fucking broken bottles, knives, needles and even guns that regularly made appearances where they played. 

And, of course, big or not, he still got a shit load of play, even if he was carrying a little more weight than he ought. Being the lead singer of a fucking awesome band had a lot of shine with the ladies.

He got more than Billy, even, and realistically it probably had to be admitted that Billy was better looking, but a lot of girls went for the lead singer or nothing.

Billy was pretty fucking picky, too, so he didn’t fuck as many girls as Joe anyway. 

Billy had never seemed really bothered about sex, not even when they were kids, and Joe had often felt his balls would empty themselves in a particularly strong breeze.

Fucking ice cool Billy Tallent; Joe liked to get to him, liked to make him angry, raise his ire, because only Joe really could. Billy wasn’t bothered about hardly anything; Billy only wanted to be a success in the music industry, and even that was a cold desire; cool and calculating, not the fire Joe felt when he wanted something.

Joe wanted a fucking pizza and beer right now, pretty bad. It had been two weeks since he’d had a pizza. It had been four months since he’d touched Billy.

Joe was fucking starving.

It had been a lot longer than that since Billy had looked at him with real desire, though. Not with the kind of real hunger like he’d looked at fucking Seymour Stein with last night. For Billy, ambition and hunger were the same thing.

Joe always said he didn’t fucking care what anyone said about them, and that was mostly true, but he still read everything written about the band – sometimes just for the fucking laughs – and he’d read a lot of articles about Billy’s fucking _God given talent_ , like he was the fucking second coming of Jimi Hendrix or whatever. 

As far as Joe was concerned, Billy’s fucking talent was proof that God _didn’t_ exist; that it was given to someone who didn’t really care about it. 

OK, that was maybe a bit unfair. Joe mostly could only get Billy to care enough about music to get into a fight with him, but he didn’t care about it _enough_. It wasn’t _enough_ for Billy – music was a fucking means to an end, a fucking ticket to some bullshit rock star life.

Billy was out fucking prostituting his talent right fucking now, in fact. Not that Joe thought for a moment Billy was _actually_ sucking Stein’s dick. Not that he didn’t think Billy _would_ for their ‘big break’, but because he didn’t need to.

It was all set and ready to go and Billy and Ed were just out sealing the deal right now. Ed had apparently figured Joe’s particular brand of charm might not be to Stein’s taste and invited Billy along without Joe; Joe only knew where they were because he’d accidentally overheard them.

Fuck, Joe was hungry. 

Maybe they were getting food; probably not pizza, though. Probably fucking lobster or something. Maybe Billy would develop a taste for caviar and champagne; what the fuck else did he want a major record company’s money for anyway. What did he need it for?

Fuck, Billy didn’t even like food anyway, the skinny little fucker. He got all his energy from alcohol, nicotine, caffeine and the adrenaline of performance. 

The whole time Joe had known him, Billy had only been interested in food when he’d gone through a growth spurt at about fourteen.

They’d had pizza the first time they’d fooled around in Joe’s bedroom when they’d been fourteen. Joe had lifted twenty bucks from his mom’s purse, and Billy had let him get to third base, back when that was exciting. When you still counted bases because you’d never made it to home plate.

Billy’s body had actually seemed about as different to his as Lucy White’s had when she’d let Joe feel under her sweater a few weeks before. 

Billy had been all long limbs and sharp bones, whereas Joe had been softer, and although he hadn’t had as much of a growth spurt as Billy had, he had developed more body hair and was definitely stronger when he’d pushed Billy down onto the bed and rubbed up against him.

Billy had let him, laughing. He hadn’t tried to push Joe off, but he’d pushed against him, touching him all over, his hands – already callused, already long-fingered, already beautiful, always talented – exploring and eager.

Joe could remember, easily remember, the noises Billy had made then, hungry and impatient. 

Billy was still impatient, but he wasn’t hungry anymore.

Billy liked skinny girls, mostly, when he bothered. He went with a girl maybe every five or six shows. Even casual sex got boring – although Joe’s fourteen year old self would never have believed it – and Billy had tired of it even earlier than Joe. Joe mostly attributed that to how much Billy drank; whiskey dick was no performance enhancer.

Joe wasn’t sure what made Billy decide on any one girl. It was easier to rule out the ones he definitely wouldn’t go with. The girls were usually skinny, but they were _always_ full of attitude, all punked-up and angry. Sweet doe eyes would never catch Billy’s eye, that was for sure.

Billy’s eyes never stuck on a guy, either. Joe was almost certain Billy had never been with any guy except him, and they’d only ever traded hand jobs and the occasional (seven, Joe remembered every one) blowjob.

Joe’s eyes sometimes stuck on a guy, and he had a definite type. If anyone was paying close attention, Joe’s type said more about him than he was really comfortable with. But no one _was_ looking at Joe that closely.

Joe was always watching Billy that closely.

The door opened then, and Billy came in. They were staying at a crappy band house, and Joe and Billy were sharing a room like they always did when someone had to.

He smelled of smoke, garlic and booze. He stumbled a little bit, as he struggled out of his jacket; he’d been drinking. Of course.

“Have a good time, Billiam?” Joe asked, turning to look at him. Joe was on his mattress on the floor and Billy’s was just a few feet from his.

“Yeah.” Billy smiled at Joe, bright and unfocused, as he pulled off his boots and collapsed face-down on his mattress. “Yeah,” he said again, to himself this time, like Joe wasn’t even there.

He didn’t smell of whiskey; more like wine. It probably had been champagne, those fuckers, celebrating without him, like they didn’t need him, like there even _was_ any _Hard Core Logo_ without Joe. 

Billy could drink a bottle of whiskey and still be steady on his feet – wine knocked him out, and as Joe watched, Billy’s body relaxed easily on the mattress. 

Billy’s mouth was open as he slipped into sleep, and Joe could smell garlic on his breath. They _had_ eaten without him, the bastards.

Billy’s t-shirt had pulled up, and his jeans gaped a little at his skinny waist showing the pale skin at the small of his back.

Joe was fucking starving.

***


End file.
